


The book of rewritten days

by qwerty



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU after early series 2, F/F, M/M, Morgana has bad dreams, Zombies, dusty old books, ominous chickens, rampant cocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwerty/pseuds/qwerty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t the bad dreams that troubled Morgana the most. It was waking up from them that was hardest. Until the dreams started creeping into her waking hours, along with a bunch of rather nasty things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The book of rewritten days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afterism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/gifts).



> This story prances off into the magical land of AU-after-early-series-2, and I hope the unicorns are mostly happier for it.
> 
> Thanks to the mods for their infinite patience, and to mikeneko for a very fast and thorough beta on very short notice. Happy holidays, afterism!

_She was clawing her way up, through suffocating earth, pulling away handfuls of damp soil and broken roots, and slowly dragging herself to where she thought the surface must be, in a kind of desperate scrabbling that would feel hopeless, except that she didn't tire or feel any pain, like she could keep at it forever until she finally found a way out._

_Light broke through her fingers, and air, but they offered no respite, no comfort, as dull and stale to her senses as the airless dark below._

_Just as she braced her elbows on the loose-packed earth, about to pull herself free, she slipped, and she was falling—_

Morgana jolted awake in her bed. She held herself very still, breathing deeply, in and out, counting to pace out her exhalations as her first nursemaid had taught her. She'd long since forgotten the woman's face and voice, but this one lesson stayed with her. "It's only a dream," she counselled herself, "not real, and it will be forgotten in the morning." For her, it was only a comforting lie; her dreams were as often true than not, sometimes clearer in the daylight than when she lay dreaming, but in the cold, lonely hours before dawn came with light and Gwen's gentle hand would soothe her furrowed brow, the whispered litany helped push aside the amorphous dread and despair for a little while, and let her steal a few more moments of rest from her dreams.

There was a sprig of fresh lavender on her pillow, by her cheek. Gwen must have had left it before she went home last night, after sitting up by Morgana's bed with a candle to work on her sewing until Morgana fell asleep. She inhaled its soft perfume with her carefully measured breaths, and drifted back into a gentler sleep.

The next time Morgana opened her eyes, it was to grey pre-dawn light filtering through her window. At her door, soft voices murmured over _the furious, slow clucks of a mad-eyed cockerel_ ... but that dream was fading. Gwen and Merlin, she thought, hearing snatches of words like "valerian root", "new tincture", "fennel", "help clear her mind", and a quick, "add honey?" which meant that Merlin had a new potion from Gaius for her to try, and Gwen wished to make it taste less vile.

Sweetened or not, it would be quite useless anyway, she knew, because Gaius had never understood that it was not the dreams but the waking that troubled her. The dreams were strange and terrible, true, but at least she was always aware on some level that they were dreams, sometimes of distant places, and might not even come to pass. All his potions did was keep her trapped and unable to free herself, leaving her too muzzy and confused to reason when she woke, so she had nothing to cling to but heavy, inarticulate horror.

Just thinking of the dreams exhausted her. If she dared refuse the potions ... if she could bear the worry in Gwen's face or the fear of Uther's pyre if indeed her dreams were true visions ... Morgana let her heavy lids slide closed again, and saw behind them Gwen's helpless, doubting face and Merlin’s hesitation, as though he held back things he wanted to say. 

She opened her eyes and sat up when Gwen came to her side, and swallowed the bitter potion without complaint.

The third time she woke, from a startlingly vivid tableau of still figures lying about the castle and a creature stalking its gloomy corridors, Gwen was dabbing at Morgana’s swollen eyes with a cool washcloth and murmuring sweet reassurances in her ear, sweeter for the fact that Gwen understood that she could do nothing to help yet stayed to comfort her anyway. Morgana caught Gwen's cool hand and pressed it to her overheated cheek, and Gwen smiled hopefully at her.

"My lady," Gwen said, and let Morgana rest on her palm. She brushed away damp strands of hair from Morgana's face with her free hand. "Are you ready to rise yet? I've prepared a warm bath for you. Or would you like something to eat first?"

She could lie like this all day, Gwen patient and indulgent at her side, but already she felt like she might sink into dreams again. "A bath sounds wonderful, Gwen. Help me up."

She let her leftover fears wash away with the warm water, and Gwen brought her favourite silk dress without needing to be asked, smoothing the fine material over her shoulders and back with a lighter touch than Morgana would have wished. Morgana kept her eyes open to watch Gwen's quiet pleasure in brushing and arranging her long hair, which Gwen sometimes admitted to envying.

"Gwen, you've outdone yourself," Morgana declared, clapping her hands in delight over her breakfast tray, where a tight bunch of deep purple grapes took pride of place among the usual smoked trout, soft cheese, and warm bread. "Did you steal the grapes from Arthur's tray in the kitchen?" she demanded, because the cook always reserved the sweet fruit for the prince, a holdover from their childhood days when Arthur had refused to eat unless there was something sweet to finish with and Morgana had refused any small kindness that might seem a gesture of pity.

Gwen smiled back at her, a little guilt mixed with her pleasure at Morgana's effusive glee. "A couple of the new knights got in a tavern brawl last night, and one of them was killed. Arthur was not pleased." As Merlin generally bore the brunt of Arthur’s displeasure, Morgana assumed that Arthur’s loss was her gain in the form of her morning treat. Morgana was as delighted in having won this little contest with Arthur, which he didn't know he was having, as she was for the grapes themselves.

"Thank Merlin for me when you see him later, then. Do you want some of these lovely grapes?" Morgana offered, feeling generous. When Gwen shook her head, she said, "Never mind, then," and bit a juicy grape off the stem, astringent skin and all. She did not bother to suppress her snicker at the tell-tale, appealing blush that rose and darkened Gwen's cheeks. 

But afterward, Gwen took longer than Morgana had expected to return from taking her clothes and breakfast tray down. When Morgana went to look for her, she instead caught Merlin coming out of an unused guestroom, breathless and clutching an empty pillowcase, small feathers in his hair. He almost ducked away, before he realised he had already been seen.

"Lady Morgana, I was just," he stuffed the pillowcase behind his back as if that would hide it, "did you, like the, um." There was a soft cluck, echoing distantly down the corridor, and Morgana shivered at the brief echo of her dream. Merlin looked distracted then, blurted, "I have to go!" Just like that, he dismissed himself without waiting for her reply, bowing, backing away, then taking flight down the corridor.

Morgana shook her head, amused. Only Merlin. Then she stopped, caught again by that feeling of familiarity. This place, these shadows ... She shook her head again, dismissing the dream memory. There were no bodies here, and no shadowy monster awaited her at the end of the passage.

"My lady!" Gwen nearly ran into her as Morgana turned to enter the kitchen hall.

Morgana caught and steadied her. "Gwen, what's wrong?" She found her gaze caught by a splash of red on Gwen's dress—then she saw the bleeding gash on Gwen’s wrist, clasped tightly with her handkerchief. "What has happened?"

"Merlin's cock—" Gwen stopped herself short and blushed deeply. "I meant, there was a huge cockerel, and Merlin was chasing it, and I tried to help, but it was furious and flew at me," she waved her hand to demonstrate, and a droplet of red struck Morgana's cheek. "My lady! I'm sorry!"

Morgana grasped her firmly by her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. "Gwen, stop babbling. I'm all right, but you are not. Go to Gaius and have him take care of your hand." Gwen looked forlorn as Morgana dabbed away the blood on her cheek with her own handkerchief, but she bobbed a quick curtsy before hurrying away to Gaius.

Suddenly, a tide of dizziness and nameless dread rose, washing over Morgana, and she realised she was alone in the stairwell. _No, not so alone,_ she thought desperately, without knowing why, but she hastened her steps downward until once again she found people around her.

But it wasn't enough: the unmoving bodies in her dream clung to her memory. She tried to replace that vision with reality: the bustling presence around her, a minor lord chiding his servants. But even as she did, his open mouth became _a dark, gaping maw._ She blinked as it _yawned hungrily, the bowed heads drooping lifelessly, bodies swaying, collapsing to the floor._ Morgana blinked again, and the impression receded.

Could it be Gaius's new potion? she guessed. She should go lie down and sleep it off, tell Gaius about its side effects later. But Gwen's injury, and the unseen creature in the corridor, the bodies ... 

Morgana couldn't rest. She needed to know, to find out what she could about this threat, do _something._ Gaius could tell her nothing; he would send her off with another potion to sleep. Merlin, who looked fit to strangle himself every time he saw her, was keeping secrets from her as well, probably at Gaius's behest. The memory of that ominous clucking in her dream ... was Merlin somehow involved in the danger within her dreams? Surely it was unwittingly—even with all his secrets, she couldn't imagine Arthur's cheerful manservant as evil or conniving. Hadn’t he tried to help her by sending her to the druids, however disastrously that had turned out?

Well, let them have their secrets. Morgana found herself staring at the damning red spot on her white handkerchief, and let it firm her resolve with the thought of danger to her sweet Gwen. She tucked the little square of fabric away. Morgana would find her own answers. The Archives, then. That seemed a reasonable place to start. 

\- - - - -

The Archives were enormous, and dusty, and filled with useless old books that were either copied by illiterate scribes or written in an illegible hand or both, and no doubt covered in mildew and crawling with horrid insects as well. Morgana was certainly no delicate, sneering flower like that young princess she'd met in King Olaf's court when she’d visited with her late father as part of a diplomatic delegation, but she was beginning to reconsider her decision to look for her own answers here. The sleeves and skirts of her favourite dress had already turned grey, and her nose stuffed up worse the more she swept aside cobwebs and blew away dust from the less-visited shelves. Her hazy fears seemed distant and foolish amidst all this oppressive mundanity.

She found bestiaries and books of curses, mostly filled with folk superstitions, but no, Gwen's runaway chicken clearly did not breathe fire like the exotic _basan_ from the faraway lands to the East. If it had been a cockatrice, there would be _dead people everywhere_ —like in her dream, she thought with a shudder, forcing herself to dismiss the notion.

Perhaps that bird had been about to lay an egg, or—she tried to think of a non-terrifying scenario—Merlin simply intended to set the belligerent bird on Arthur in deserved repayment for some offense. If so, she would forgive Merlin and his poultry for Gwen's hurt wrist so long as she got to watch Arthur run from a chicken or attempt to fight it with his sword. From the way Arthur had dealt with livestock when they were in Ealdor, she could well imagine either scenario.

"How to Encourage Laying in Hens." "Scarecrows to Scare Crows." "Tricks to Keep Geese from Wandering." Still nothing of use. She tossed aside _The Book of Farmyard Magick_ in disgust. Morgana thought, spitefully, for all the use these books were to her, she might be better served picking up a sword and hunting down the offending fowl through the keep herself.

As she rested her elbow on a shelf, considering how the perfectly ordinary bird had been twisted by her fears into a nightmare creature, and the shelf gave way with a rumbling groan. Morgana let out a small shriek, shrinking in anticipation of a rain of books—but the entire bookcase revolved, dragging her with it to the other side.

 _A hidden chamber!_ In childish excitement, she stepped back, tipping up her head and twirling, taking it all in. Her persistent unease was banished at last.

Before they had been judged too old to play at swords and hunting together, even by Uther's indulgent standards for his ward, before she’d been sent to ridiculous finishing classes and made to learn sewing, dancing, and etiquette, Morgana and Arthur had spent long hours exploring the castle, and their chief ambition had been to discover a secret passageway or room. At last, here it was!

The room was also somehow cleaner than the neglected shelves outside, which pleased her even more. Morgana wiped her nose with a less grey corner of her sleeve, and looked around her keenly at the high shelves. The books arrayed here were neatly bound, with precise, flowing letters on their spines.

And the titles—knowing, suggestive, meaningful—they made sense to her in ways Gaius's vague explanations of her dreams never had. Here were books of real, forbidden magic. Nothing like the nonsensical collections of superstitions and folk beliefs to be found outside.

Morgana was proud: _she_ had broken through the tangle of lies she had grown up with, finally, with no help from those who would keep her ignorant. And she was relieved: she was not insane—not if these volumes about scrying and visions fulfilled their promises of knowledge. And she was furious: Gaius and Merlin must have already known all this and chose to hide it from her, to let her think she was going mad to protect her from herself.

But most of all, she was terrified: of Uther's reaction should he discover her powers, of Gwen's reaction, who had herself suffered and lost her father to magic, even indirectly. And, of course, of Arthur's reaction, because as much as they fought and sniped at each other, Arthur had always been the brother she never had.

In the midst of her joy and confusion, one of the books, more than the others, drew her eyes. On its soft, rich brown cover and rose-gold lettering, "A Book of Rewritten Days," she read softly to herself. She traced the delicate letters of its subtitle with her fingertips. "A Record of Dreams Which Will Never Come to Pass."

She tugged the book free of the shelf, and opened it to the middle.

_... Merlin gestured sharply, barking out guttural syllables. His eyes flashed gold, and the cockerel froze mid-stride. Merlin threw himself forward to trap it under a pillowcase, then he looked to Morgana in shock, noticing her presence at last._

_She seized his arm: "Tell me what is going on!" she said. "I know you have magic!"_

_But then she saw Gwen's still body, crumpled on the ground._

_In her dream, Morgana was not surprised. She had already known that Gwen was there and why._

Morgana gasped and recoiled in horror from the book. "No, Gwen, no," she whispered, stunned. But she needed to know more ... She forced herself to focus on the page again, and ...

> ... so the former vision, Lady Celia gave me to understand, was no longer valid, for certain circumstances had been necessarily altered by my wilful interference. Whether the changes would eventually be for good or for ill, we will not know yet, for such is the risk of dabbling in matters of which I can ken but the smallest fraction, but I find I cannot bring myself to regret taking my fate in my own hands ...

"No," Morgana repeated, furious at herself for breaking too soon from the vision. "What use do I have for words? Show me again what I saw!" But the book remained an ordinary book, the pages filled only with its author's elegant, useless calligraphy. "This is all wrong!"

She hurled the book from her, and it flashed into flames as it hit the wall. It was at once an affirmation of the magic she had suspected she possessed, and a reminder of her dangerous lack of control. "No!"

Morgana rushed forward and stamped out the licking flames, fortunately too small to have done more than singe the edges of the binding. Foolish, hysterical, what would Gwen think if she saw Morgana throwing a tantrum like this, magical or not?

She had to control herself. She had to arm herself with her certainty in her new knowledge, and speak to Gaius. She smoothed the crinkled cover of the abused book, brushing away flakes of fine ash, and she gathered it up. She would accept no more lies.

\- - - - -

When she found Gwen laughing shyly with Merlin near the Archives, Morgana wanted to believe that Gwen had somehow known where she was and had come to find her, only to run into Merlin and be distracted. But Morgana could not say in honesty that she was certain; Gwen's bandaged wrist told her it was more likely that they had come together from Gaius's chambers. She hated the thought that the two might have been walking together by intention and were here simply by chance. 

Fortunately, just then, an angry cluck directed her to a more suitable target. Merlin’s vicious fowl was wrapped securely in a pillowcase and tucked under his arm. Its head bobbed free, and it clearly wanted to kill them all, glaring from Merlin to Gwen to her and back with mad chicken eyes.

This, then, was the lurking monster of her dreams? Morgana laughed at her own ridiculous fears. The cockerel screeched back in fury.

"Is this the fowl criminal that hurt my Gwen?" she demanded, feeling playful. "Come, we'll take it to the kitchens and have it roasted for its misdeeds, then Gwen and I can have it for supper tonight."

Merlin blanched at her words, strangely enough. Morgana knew that he did not enjoy Arthur's hunts, but she never thought that he might suffer qualms over livestock as well. He shoved the bird behind his back protectively while it squawked in protest. "You can't! I mean, he didn't mean to, he was just surprised!"

Seeing that even Gwen was looking at him oddly at this outburst, Merlin made a visible effort to calm himself. "There ... there's no need to be hasty, surely. He's young and stringy, there's hardly anything worth eating on him. I can ask the cooks to prepare a fat capon for you—that would surely be much better."

"A common capon would lack the sweet savour of revenge," Morgana said, tone carefully light, watching Merlin's expression. "It needs to pay for hurting Gwen. We could have it in a stew instead, if it is too tough for roasting."

"Gaius wants it for something," Merlin said, wincing. The cockerel squawked quietly under his shielding arm. He was such a poor liar that Morgana decided that she wasn't surprised that she’d never suspected him of magic before, only that he hadn't told someone willing to believe him yet.

Gwen came to her side and took her arm, trying to divert their focus and ease the tension. "What have you been doing, my lady, your dress and hair are ruined! Abi, the laundry maid, told me she had seen you going to the Archives. Was there something you wanted? You could have asked me ... not that I think you can't do it yourself, of course, I meant only ..."

Morgana smiled fondly and put her dusty hand over Gwen's, warmed by the familiar babble. Gwen _had_ come to look for her.

A chill settled on her abruptly, the sensation akin to a sudden shadow over a noonday sun. Morgana shuddered, and Merlin's head snapped up alert, like a hunting dog that had detected prey. Or danger.

They had to move quickly, Morgana thought to herself. If the cockerel was not the threat ... She cast her mind back, trying to recollect more details from her dreams. _Digging through the earth ..._

"Fine, if you insist on saving this ill-mannered bird from the pot, so be it,” she said. “I'll come with you to Gaius. There are some things I would like to speak with him about, regarding his new sleeping draught." She held on to Gwen's hand and the book from the secret room, determined to guard both, whatever the true non-chicken danger turned out to be.

Merlin's gaze flicked down to the book in her hands. "Didn't it work?"

"My lady?" Gwen looked between her and Merlin uncertainly, aware that Morgana and Merlin were exchanging more than simple pleasantries. She looked hurt, unhappy for some reason.

Morgana would rather send her away for something small, to distract her while the necessary discussion about magic with Gaius and Merlin took place, but she dared not let Gwen leave her side with the unknown danger still at large. Morgana nodded, decision made. "Yes, it worked very well." She looked at Gwen, and hoped ... she dared not think what she would do if Gwen could not accept her magic.

It was then that a figure lurched out from around the corner, shambling towards them.

Morgana did not recognise the man at first—he was familiar in a distant, unremarkable way, like someone she might see in passing from time to time but never speak to, perhaps a tradesman or servant to one of the lesser nobility. But even if it had been someone she spoke with daily, she thought she might have had trouble anyway, the way the livid bruises stood out against his slack, ashen face.

"John?" Gwen asked, sounding hesitant.

The man continued stumbling towards them with no sign of having heard her. His mouth fell open and a low croak escaped his throat.

"What has happened to you?" Gwen started towards him in concern, but an unreasoning panic seized Morgana, and she grabbed for Gwen, catching at her bandaged hand.

Gwen winced, but Morgana could not find it in herself to regret the action. "Don't go near him," Morgana hissed, and even as she spoke, black blood spilled from the man's open mouth. He raised his hands, reaching for them, and his nails were broken and bloody. Then he raised his head, and they saw the gory mess some creature had made of his neck.

Gwen gasped. Morgana stepped backwards, dragging Gwen along by her elbow, casting about for a weapon.

Merlin moved to put himself between them and the approaching man, much the same way Arthur would have had he been present. The cock under his arm screeched, and pecked him furiously. "Argh! Stop it, you idiot!" The cock pecked him harder.

"What is the matter with your cock?" Morgana snapped out as she pulled a halberd from one of the decorative suits of armour along the walls. She thrust forward the blunt end to stave off the man.

He failed to react to the push, continuing forwards as though he had felt nothing. Morgana’s attempts to hold him at bay with the weapon came to nothing: in spite of his grievous injuries and mindless groans, he was surprisingly strong. She found herself forced back.

Gwen joined her strength with Morgana, and together they managed to throw him backwards to the ground and even cause him to slide nearly all the way to the opposing wall. Morgana gawked a little, shocked by the force of it. Could her magic have helped? Not that it was any use. The man simply struggled to his feet and began lurching in their direction once more.

But then another tattered figure came around the corner, joining him. And another.

"What is this madness?" Morgana whispered, half to herself. "Am I dreaming after all?"

Merlin's troubled expression might have told her that she wasn't dreaming, but perhaps she was dreaming that he knew about her. Or it may have meant he was worried for her state of mind.

"Don't be foolish," Gwen said then, breaking into Morgana’s spiralling thoughts. Gwen took both her hand and Merlin's in her own, and shouted, "Run!" And they obeyed.

The strange, shambling corpses, for that was how they looked—surely no one could be in their state and live—were easily left behind, even encumbered as they were with chicken and halberd, though there was a bad moment when a door broke open before them and a chambermaid with her mouth ripped open came at them. Morgana slashed at her knee with the edged end this time, and they left her crawling heedlessly after, whimpering.

Morgana rejected stopping in various rooms they passed so they would not be trapped if those creatures found them, until they reached a large council room with several doors.

Merlin set down his cock, turned surprisingly docile. They set about barring the doors, though Morgana decided halfway that they should not use the furniture to block the doors. As they cleared the entryways again, Gwen found breath to scold Merlin, "What did you think you were doing stepping in front of us? You were unarmed!" The cock clucked as though in agreement, and managed to sound disapproving.

"Never mind that now," Morgana said, surveying the courtyard from a window. "We need to find Arthur and tell him what has happened, organise a defence. Where is he, Merlin?"

Merlin looked immediately guilty. "I ... I don't know?" He sounded more hopeful than worried or concerned. The cock stepped up and pecked him on the arm again, hard.

"This is no time to prevaricate on his behalf, Merlin," Morgana said, irritated. The courtyard seemed to be bustling as usual. At least, whatever was going on seemed to be limited to the castle, and not even all of it; Gwen and Merlin had met other people while asking about Morgana's whereabouts, after all. "Where has he gone off to this time? Hunting in the woods on his own again?"

The cock crowed, flapping its wings madly, which caused it to lift off the ground three feet before crashing down.

They all winced at the impact. It picked itself up, unfazed, and began chasing Merlin with furious pecks. Morgana thought of her vision of him stunning the bird with magic, and her heart quickened in her breast with excitement and fear.

This, this could be a true test of whether her dreams were indeed more than dreams, and to find out Gwen's feelings about magic. Morgana stepped away from the window, drawing in a deep breath to brace herself. She began, "Merlin, I know ..."

Almost exactly at the same time, Merlin thrust the cock away from him, and burst out, "Stop it, Arthur!"

Gwen looked at both of them oddly. "You named your cock for Ar-, his Highness?" she asked Merlin. And to Morgana, "You knew?"

"No," Morgana said, again together with Merlin, and they looked at each other, suitably horrified while the cock in question tilted its head to look at her with one shocked, beady eye.

Gwen giggled nervously. "I'm sorry, I know it's not what you meant, but I just had to ... I'm sorry." She did not look all that sorry, though, and she had seemed so innocently surprised a moment before.

Morgana stared at her, amazed at this side of Gwen that she hadn't seen before. Being chased by the walking dead brought out her good qualities, it seemed.

"Please, go on," Gwen encouraged, when no one looked likely to continue. "You were saying?"

Merlin looked from Gwen to her and stammered, "The cock, it's really Arthur. The real Arthur, I mean. He was cursed. By a very evil sorcerer. I was trying to take him to Gaius for help, but he wouldn't see sense and just blames me." The cock glared at Merlin for that.

Gwen clapped her hands over her mouth, shaken. "You mean ... really? Poor Arth-, I mean, your Highness."

No. Morgana shook her head at herself. She couldn't use him as a shield to hide from Gwen so cravenly. There would never be an end to the lies. She couldn't live like that, and Gwen had stayed with her through her screaming nightmares and hysterical crying jags, when she thought she might be insane. She should believe in Gwen's faithfulness by now.

"Gwen," she said, feeling a heavy weight lift at the decision. "I have something to tell you."

Merlin's eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly, but she soldiered on. "I—I dreamt about this before it happened. It's not the first time I had dreams like this, dreams that came true."

She had lost the book when the first corpse came at them, but she spread her fingers over the table before her, remembering the feel of its cover, and the old parchment inside. "I have magic," she said to Arthur's narrow-eyed gaze. Gwen gasped. Morgana bowed her head, not wanting to see their expressions. "That is what I wanted to say."

There was a flurry of motion, and Gwen had rushed forward and thrown her arms around Morgana. "My lady! You must have been so frightened! You saw all those horrible things, every night, yet were so brave to go on and try to warn us." And she pressed her lips to Morgana's cheek, and Arthur came up to her and stepped deliberately on her foot.

"I thought I was going mad," she said, her voice cracking with a sob of relief.

Gwen kissed her again, and when she laughed through her tears and tried to kiss Gwen back, Gwen turned her face just a little, and their lips met.

And then they were kissing again, locked in their impassioned embrace, each clasping the other to themselves, until Arthur let out an alarmed cackle and scampered away from them in disgust. They separated reluctantly, keeping their hands linked.

Gwen looked embarrassed to be brought back to awareness of their surroundings, but Morgana could only feel irked by the interruption. "You're just jealous you don't have someone to kiss and comfort you," she told the chicken.

Arthur didn't protest or try to peck her, all his feathers drooping in dispirited fashion, until she felt unaccountably guilty for taunting him as usual. It was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling.

Morgana chose to turn on Merlin instead. "Do you know what's going on? Can you get us to Gaius? I need more of whatever new thing it was that he put in my sleeping draught. It seems to enhance my visions. I may be able to learn more about these monsters."

The words sounded brave in her head, but voicing them reminded her of the way she had drifted in and out of dreams even while awake that morning, and she shuddered in involuntary reaction. Gwen squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back, putting on a brave smile for her.

"Well?" she pushed.

Merlin nodded slowly, cleared his throat. "Yes. I can. I know."

"Do you know how to change Arthur back?" Gwen asked after a moment of hesitation glancing between Arthur and Morgana.

"It was an old druid," Merlin said. "We were in the woods. She said something about what Arthur wants and being true to himself. I didn't understand what she meant either," he said to Morgana's grimace.

Morgana shook her head. "Fine." She picked up her halberd. "I don’t think we should get too close to the walking dead, but everyone should get a weapon just in case. Arthur, stay close and behind us. There's nothing you can do but get killed."

Arthur replied with a reluctant cluck of assent, and Gwen found herself a broom. Merlin only looked at them all seriously, and nodded, without picking anything up.

"I," he started, and stopped. "I don't need a weapon." He looked at Arthur, and only Arthur. "I _am_ a weapon." He turned his back on them and started for the door closest to Gaius's rooms. "Let's go."

\- - - - -

Their passage was quiet and unimpeded at first. Morgana looked about for the still bodies from her dreams and saw nothing, yet she felt no easier for it, jumping at every shadow.

It was too quiet for midday. There should have been guards, servants shuffling about, various courtiers and lords waiting with petitions and such. She wondered where Uther was, worrying about him despite her bitter certainty that he would order her execution without hesitation if he knew about her magic.

Then their little band stopped in a corridor, and there they were, the shadows and bodies from Morgana's dreams, lying about the ground motionless.

And there was the sole, approaching thing in the darkness ... Morgana trembled and drew Gwen close to her side. "Don't leave me." Gwen nodded, pale and close-lipped.

"Get to Gaius and do what you need to do," Merlin said, looking remote and determined. “I will stand in their way."

Morgana saw then what she had not registered in her dream: the trembling limbs, the faint shifting movements on the fallen bodies, gradually increasing in strength and purpose. "Hurry. Go with them, Arthur."

Gwen seemed to not quite understand, only allowing Morgana to drag her along because Merlin told them, "Go!" They began to run in earnest as the first of the bodies rose from the ground.

When they slammed into Gaius's undisturbed room, he looked up, surprised to see them. And it was then that Morgana realised that Arthur had disappeared somewhere along the way.

Morgana looked back out the corridor, but saw no sign of Arthur.

"How can I be of service, Lady Morgana?" asked Gaius, severe eyebrows rising shrewdly as he looked at the mess of her clothes and dress, and the weapons she and Gwen carried.

"I need the sleeping draught you sent me today. The exact same one. Believe me, we all need it."

Still, he tried to fob her off with one, then two other potions that chilled her to the bone the instant she touched the vials. "You don't understand," she said at last, desperate, "give me that potion, or you will doom us all."

He studied her determination, and the white-knuckled grip of her hand on her halberd. And finally he gave in, giving her a bottle that felt right.

She could not afford to lose more time to the monsters and ignorance of how Arthur and his manservant were. Taking a gamble, she twisted off the stopper and drank it down without further thought, and Gwen grabbed her and guided her to a seat.

_A man. She knew him at once: Lord Solomon, the same lordling she had seen dressing down his servants earlier in the hall. He now sat in a study, weeping, and she remembered without ever knowing that his sons were the new knights Gwen had told her about, and how one of them lay cold and dead in the family crypt._

_He wept over his books, texts both old and new, written in exotic foreign letters, illegal and deathly texts, and one lay open, a page half-torn out, a fierce line of ink circling what looked like a small, hairy hand on the page, above direly penned warnings._

_And the wizened counterpart of the painted image’s flesh sat on the table before him._

Morgana opened her eyes, and thought of the druid child the three of them had worked together to save from Uther's rage.

 _Merlin,_ she thought, _where are you?_ but there was no answer save Gwen's firm grip on her shoulder, anchoring her from sinking too far into dream, into sleep.

She thought of the hand again, and the weeping father's wish for his lost son, and then of the candle she had caused to burst into flames that roared up and consumed the curtains. She thought of those two things together, and the candle on the lord's work table, closed her eyes.

_A candle flaring, a spark, leaping out. Enough to land on the dry, embalmed hand, enough to make the tiny ember roar into blazing, consuming life. The young knight: she watched him stumble, suddenly bereft of that hopeless desire for life, catching alight himself, falling. And. It was done._

Except those that had followed in his wake, who had been drawn back into life by his need ... They still milled around, momentarily lost, then continued without him. But there would be no new ones created by the cursed wishing hand.

_She cast her thoughts outward and found Uther with his guards in a barricaded room like the one she had taken shelter in with Gwen and the others earlier. They had a door partially blocked so it allowed only one man to pass at a time, and they cut down the bodies that shambled unthinkingly in, one by one. They would be fine. She left them._

Gaius was watching her anxiously, silent. She dismissed him from her mind for the moment, letting Gwen wipe the dusty tear-streaks from her face. She reached out again.

_Arthur was himself again. He was hanging from the side of a balcony too high for a normal man to reach, pulling Merlin up to join him just in time to escape the massed walking dead below. The two clambered over the railing, spilling to the inside of the room, where they leant back to back, panting after their close escape. And after several long breaths, Merlin turned so they were shoulder to shoulder instead and looked at Arthur, and Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's jaw, turning his face enough so that Merlin could lean in and let their lips touch._

Morgana opened her eyes, startled, to find Gwen holding her in a tender embrace. She smiled gladly at Gwen. And looked out one last time.

_The head cook, the one who had saved sweet grapes for a motherless boy and let an orphaned girl keep her pride, was leading her fellow servants and a few guards in battering the moving corpses until they stopped moving. They were using whatever implements they had at hand—skewers, rolling pins, heavy skillets …_

Any tradesman or blacksmith coming to Camelot would have no lack of work for a long time, Morgana thought. They would need to replace so many things. Perhaps if Gwen's errant brother were to return, even ...

Morgana woke to Gwen again, tired and hopeful, not yet triumphant. The battle had yet to be won, but they would be all right. This she knew without needing to see. Let the dreams or nightmares come. Whatever the visions were supposed to be — fate, destiny, fortune — Morgana would no longer be bound to them, their helpless slave. She would take her power in her own hands, be author to her own days, and that was all to the better.


End file.
